


My Scars to Yours

by Anonymous_Astronaut



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Steven Universe Fusion, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Slow Burn, TF2 Fusions, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25701067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous_Astronaut/pseuds/Anonymous_Astronaut
Summary: You don't have to know anything about Steven Universe to get this fic, the only thing they share is fusion rules. It's not a crossover, just a fusion au.Wanna fuse?
Relationships: Sniper/Spy (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 163





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fun weird fic I've had a rough draft for forever. I love Steven universe, and fusion is a really fun topic to write about in any fandom, for me at least. Hope you enjoy!

“Agh! Mon deu!” 

With a curse, Spy pressed himself to the wall and peered around the window frame, diving out of the way when he saw a rocket coming. Most of the blast missed him, but he felt shrapnel bury into his side. He hit the ground and rolled, but landed badly and ended up dazed against the hard wooden wall of the small building he was hiding in. His cloaking device hadn’t recharged yet but oh how he wished it had when he spotted a laser sight on his chest, watching it crawl up to his face. There was nothing he could do but close his eyes.

Two hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him out of the way just as he heard the crack of the rifle shot, the bullet deeply marking the wall where his head had been a moment before. Instead of being swept away to respawn as he’d fully expected, he found himself landing heavily on top of someone on the ground. 

The person gently rolled him off of them and onto the floor to his back, and he felt a hand grab the piece of shrapnel in his side and waste no time in yanking it out. 

He gasped and opened his eyes. 

His team’s sniper was straddled above him, dressing the wound in his side in gauze with expert fingers. The BLU ripped out the second piece of shrapnel, and Spy had to take in a sharp breath and grit his teeth to keep from crying out.

“You're alright spook, I gotcha,” Sniper muttered quietly. He finished dressing the wound and stood, offering a hand out to Spy. It was accepted, and Spy was pulled none too gracefully to his feet.

Sniper took off down the hall to peer out a window at the point they were supposed to capture. Precious seconds were ticking away, each one giving the RED team a building advantage. Seeing no better option at the moment, Spy limped after the bushman and joined him at the window frame with a scowl, keeping one hand clutched to his freshly dressed side.

They watched the enemy gather on their center point, the RED solider dropping in from a well placed rocket jump. The bastards had almost recaptured it, and if that happened Spy no doubt his team would not be getting it back. He darted out of the sight of the window and hissed to his taller teammate, “Merde! We are the only ones left.”

Sniper leaned back to join him against the wall, out of sight of his counterpart’s searching scope. “Shit. If I try ‘n take any of ‘em out from here they’ll know our position.” His eyes darted to Spy, sizing him up and calculating their chances. “Yeah, we won’t last ten seconds.”

As much as Spy would like to be offended, he didn’t have the time or platform of logic for it. Sniper was right. Spy was about as good at head on combat as a toddler in a boxing ring, and Sniper put the capital “S” in “Support Class”. Individually, they weren’t very strong. 

But...

Spy’s eyes widened as the idea hit him. “Well, maybe not like this.” He whipped to Sniper and grabbed his wrist. “Fuse with me.”

Snipers eyes nearly bugged out of his head, his whole body stiffening at the words. “What?!”

“Fuse with me! We are in the perfect position to attack and they’d never expect such a bold move.” Spy felt adrenaline kick back into his veins, and suddenly the wound in his side didn’t seem so bothersome anymore. “I’m confidant we can beat them together. I believe combined we’d be very... precise.”

Sniper shook his head many more times than was necessary, taking his arm back and retreating from his teammate. “Woah, woah, woah, I don’t know how to do that!”

Spy rolled his eyes. They were going to lose their chance if they weren’t quick. “Oh please, I know we’ve never fused before, but it’s just like fusing with anyone else. In addition, we will make a brand new fusion!" The Frenchman threw his hands up in question and a halfhearted attempt at celebration, "Exciting, non?”

Sniper still looked prettified. “No, Spy, you don’t understand, I’ve _never_ fused before! With _anyone!_ ”

Spy’s eyes went big and his voice went up a pitch. “What!?”

Sniper crossed his arms defensively. “I’m support class- I don’t need too!”

“ _I’m_ support class and I have fused with just about everyone _except_ you! Medic’s support and he fuses all the time!” Spy hissed back at him.

Sniper groaned. “Well, I donno, you guy's are different. I’ve just never needed to.”

Fighting the urge to question what exactly separated Sniper from the rest of them, Spy composed himself with an exhale and offered his hand out again, more formally this time. He lowered his voice, even with no one near by enough to hear it, so it was just for Sniper. “Well, now...I need you to.” 

The spy looked to the side, breaking eye contact with Sniper’s deer-in-the-headlights gaze. “I know I’m probably -definitely- not your first choice for fusion, and I’m sorry we’re in a position where you don’t get to chose who it is, but" he gestured around them with the hand not held out as and offering, "I am the only one here.” His eyes darted back to Snipers. “Will you let me share this with you? I remember my first fusion to, and it was one of the few times in my life I've ever been terrified. I realize now that I didn’t have to be.”

Sniper glanced at the hand, then back to Spy, chewing his lip and teetering between decisions. He settled for a muttered admission, like it could save him from having to choose. “I... I don’t know how.”

Spy smiled reassuringly. A genuine smile, which was not something he did often. “I do.”

Sniper straightened his shoulders, took a breath, and hovered his hand above Spy’s. “Kay.”

Spy’s smile got a little wider and he cocked an eyebrow. “Let’s show them what we’ve got, eh bushman?”

He grabbed his teammate's hand and pulled Sniper from the wall to the middle of the room, away from the view of the window. He clasped their hands together, and slid his other hand under Snipers arm and behind his back. Sniper awkwardly adjusted to rest a hand on Spy's shoulder in turn.

Spy started to step in circles, leading despite being the smaller of the pair. To his surprise, Sniper more or less stayed with him. Once the man got the rhythm, he wasn’t a half bad dancer. They stepped around the room for a few seconds, the scuffing sounds of their shoes seemingly loud against the hardwood floor. Spy stepped away to twirl the taller man in a circle, catching him after two turns and leaning into a dip. He closed his eyes, and felt Sniper’s forehead press to his own as the air around them warped, and he felt himself shift.

They opened their eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sniper and Spy are given knives

_Merde,_ they thought.

**Crikey,** they thought at the same time.

They- _no, he_ \- he, stood slowly from the bowed position he’d been formed in. He took about five seconds to look down at themselves. _Self. Himself._

He had a sharp blue pinstripe vest, reminiscent of Spy’s suit, over a casual white button up with sleeves folded up to his elbows. The shoulders of the shirt bared an insignia of Spy’s knife with Sniper’s sight insignia circled around it. The collar of the shirt was unbuttoned and he didn’t have a tie, but it looked deliberate and relaxed in a casually classy sort of way. His hands had six fingers each, clothed in black semi-fingerless gloves that only covered the two middle fingers on each hand. His extraordinarily long legs were clad in dark trousers and tipped with shiny black cowboy boots. He had a fedora above a dark blue mask that only covered the top half of his face, around his nose and eyes. Each eye contained two pupils that moved together, one brown and one green in each. The rest of his tan face was long with a prominent but delicate chin. Snipers scar peaked out from under the mask on his cheek. His smirk was a small but sly one.

On his back was a sheath strap housing an array of knives that to describe as vast would be a gross understatement. 

On top of all that, he was about nine and a half feet tall. 

“I suppose we get the height from me, hm? I mean from you. The bushman. Haha!” He laughed at his own voice. It was low and sultry, but the combination of French and Australian accents had ended up making him sound vaguely British. He sounded good together.

God, standing here talking to himself like a madman. But he wasn’t a madman, was he?

He was _two._

“Shall we get to it then?” He grinned, sweeping a arm to invite himself down the hallway, “After you.” He vanished with a shimmer and ran out of the building, silently weaving towards the point.

Inside his head, however, it was anything but silent. 

_Excellent, invisibility is still functional, but I doubt disguise is on the table anymore. I wonder what else we can do?_

**Well, we ain’t gonna get anything special from me. But we’ve sure got a lot of knives.**

He whipped around the corner and stepped into the crowded room housing the center point. Flicking off the cloak he shimmered confidently into view, tipping his hat. “G’day, gentlemen.”

All thought of what he should do disappeared as instinct took over. He drew three knives from his back at once and threw them with an effortless flick of his wrist, yet hard enough to bury them hilt deep in the forehead of the pyro, medic and scout respectively, all three instantly toppling to the ground. 

A Heavy-Soldier fusion he was relatively certain referred to themself as ‘Big Guns’ turned towards him. It appeared that BLU was not the only team with fusion on the menu for today's battle.

Big Guns was shorter than him, but that hardly mattered when they were also about five times as wide. They were a huge brute with a muscled mass of a neck and two mouths shoved onto their square face, both of which liked to scream. They had four arms, thick as tree trunks, two of which were holding what could only be described as a cannon. 

The BLU team’s fusion absent-mindedly drew a huge, silver, doubled edged kukri from his hip and dove at Big Guns. He ducked under the giant’s arms and sliced at their belly, barely thinking about his actions. He was putting far more brain power into pondering what he should call himself. 

_This is Big Gun's, correct? What a brash title. What is a proper name for the two of us, do you think?_ The spy half of him thought.

**Uh...Is that something we’re supposed to just know?** The other half of his mind responded.

He rolled and cut at the back of Big Gun's knees, hoping to get them on the ground, but his swing came up short. Big Guns was laughably slow, but if they did manage to get a hit in it was devastating. The brute managed to land a backhanded hit while the other was recovering from the momentum of his missed swing, sending the BLU fusion flying with such force he crashed straight through the wooden wall of the building housing the point.

He hit the ground hard in a splintered shower of woods, but rolled to his feet quickly. Other than the ache in his ribs where Big Gun's hit had landed, he was unharmed. Speed and agility, he was quickly coming to realize, were definitely two of his best traits. He looked up at Big Guns through the gaping hole he’d just made with a deliciously evil smile, brushing himself off and straightening up. His voice carried a stinging bite of amused disappointment as he called out, “Putting distance between us may not have been your greatest decision, mate.”

He twirled, and six knives, three from each hand, embedded themselves in a perfectly straight line from Big Guns forehead down to their belly. Their form wavered, and the RED soldier and heavy fell on top of each other, each riddled with knives. Needless to say, they died quickly.

The victorious fusion flicked blood from his fingers and walked straight-backed to the point, gathering his knives and pausing to wipe them on the shirts of the deceased before their bodies could fade away to respawn. He smiled down at the sleek weapons.

The conversation picked back up in his head. _What you said about not adding anything special to this fusion? That accuracy, mon ami, comes entirely from you._

When he finished cleaning his weapons, he stood proudly on the point to recapture it. He had fantastic posture, but kept his thumbs casually in his pockets, radiating vibes of effortless ease. After a few moments of silence his disposition cracked with a sudden chuckle to himself flavored with just the hint of a snort. He lost a little more composure when he started laughing freely, and wrapped his arms around his own shoulders happily.

“Mon deu! Didn’t think I would find such enjoyment in saying _mate._ Ha! It has a certain bite to it, doesn’t it! It sounds right nice in your voice, too. I mean _my_ voice.” He grinned and looked around at his load out, really taking note of all his available equipment. Other than the long, elegant kukri, all of his knives were throwing knives. He hadn’t even realized that was their purpose until he’d started chucking them. 

**Bit weird not having my rifle.**

_Or my pistol. Do we even have a gun?_

The fusion did a double check. The answer was more knives. He did however, find a nice array of shuriken he didn't hadn’t noticed the first go around. 

**Huh. Guess there’s always drawbacks.**

He raised an eyebrow at his own brain. _Since when exactly are artfully crafted shuriken considered a drawback?_

**...Good point.**

He looked down at his hands, smiling at his twelve fingers. “Throwing knives. Huh. I’ve never thought to try that before.” He realized he had no idea who had said that, Sniper or Spy. He grinned. Maybe it was both.

**This is bloody fantastic.**

_I couldn’t agree more._


	3. Chapter 3

The fusion stood proudly on the point, voices of his two parts neatly together in his head agreeing silently about the bloody fantastic nature of the moment. A sharp voice cut though his little introspection.

“Woah!”

He turned around fluidly at the noise, instantly recognizing Scouts voice. It turned out that with Sniper's agility and Spy’s finesse, he was an extremely graceful individual. Wait, not an _individual_. The irony of the word being applied to something like him made him chuckle again. Apparently their senses of humor were nearly identical, which meant they had simply been amplified. He sure was chuckling a lot.

He looked down at his team’s Scout. The kid was staring up at him, opened mouthed. “Attempting to catch flies, kid? I’ve heard you have a better success rate with honey rather than vinegar, and I’m guessing your saliva is rather close with all that bloody soda you consume.”

Scout ignored the artfully crafted jibe and ran a circle around him instead, taking in every angle. “Holy shit! A new fusion! I didn’t even know dat there was any new combinations left!” Scout stopped in front of him and grinned, craning his neck to make eye contact. ”You're fuckin’ tall too! Even taller than all Heavy’s fusions! Who the hell even are you a fusion of?”

The fusion arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, hiding the insignia's on his upper arms. He smirked at the Scout and simply said, “Guess.”

Scout rolled his eyes and put a hand on his chin. “Well the Spy parts pretty obvious, which I think is ironic since, like, you’re a _Spy_ aren't you not supposed to be obvious?”

The Sniper part of him laughed, which ended up making the fusion look offended while snorting in amusement at the comment.

Scout frowned in intrigue. “Who else is in there?”

The Spy half of the fusion perked up. _Let’s do something you would do!_

**Uh. What would I do?**

_This!_

He made a finger gun at Scout's head and shot him dramatically with it. “Boom.”

Scouts eyes lit up with recognition. “Holy shit, Snipes?”

The fusion flashed a grin. It was much shyer than his previous smirky ones. “The one and only. Well, two and only now, I suppose.”

“Wow! Lookit you two! Come to think of it, I can’t think of any of Sniper’s fusions. I don’t think I’ve even seen any!”

“That’s because this is his first. My first.”

Scout gave him a thumbs up, genuinely impressed. “Wow. Lookin good man. Though Spy? Really? _He’s_ your first choice?”

“Oi, don't forget who you are talking to,” The fusion bit back. Surprisingly, it was Sniper who prompted the comeback, not Spy. The reaction made the fusion smile weirdly to himself.

_Ha, merci, bushman._

**Shut up, spook.**

He was still trying to get used to this whole existing thing. Scout had started talking again at some point, so he begrudgingly tuned back in to channel chatterbox. It was hard to focus on external and internal things simultaneously.

“Dude, I said what’s you’re name?” Scout said again, frowning at the lack of response.

The fusion straightened his back and stuck out his hand for Scout to shake. The perfect name had come to him sometime during the fight, without him even realizing it. He didn’t even have to think about it twice, it just _was_. “Viper. It’s nice to meet you, Scout.”

“Viper. Sweet. Dude, you- as much as I hate to admit it- are sick as hell.”

“Much appreciated, mate.”

Scout stared. “Did Spy just say mate?”

"No. I just said mate.”

“Holy Moses!” A harsh voice yelled from behind him.

Viper turned to the new arrival. The rest of the BLU team would be flooding the point now. Scout was first for obvious reasons involving speed, and Solider had just rocket jumped in. Viper had every reason to unfuse now, but he didn’t really want to. He wanted to meet his team.

_But we both already know the team._

**Yeah, we do.**

But Viper didn't.

He smiled oddly through the turmoil in his brain. This was starting to get complicated fast. “Hello Soldier.”

The man looked about as confused as Viper felt. “Uhh. Good morning, private!”

Scout rolled his eyes. “It’s the afternoon, dummy.”

Soldier promptly ignored him, focusing instead on the fusion staring down at them. “Good job capturing the point men!”

Viper straightened his hat. “Not a problem. Not a problem in the slightest.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

Viper raised a brow. Looks like Soldier was just as blunt and dry as ever. “Yes, seeing as I didn't exist until now. I am Viper.”

“Oh. Wait, but who.... _are_ you?” The solder helpfully made a little show of fusion by mashing his fingers together.

Viper sighed in annoyance. “Is it really that hard to discern?

I mean, obviously Spy but...”

_The spy in him raged, _Obviously? I am not obvious._ _

“And..?” Viper prompted, teeth gritted.

Soldier shrugged.

Viper spread his arms, displaying himself. “Who else could I possibly be?”

Soldier stared dumbly at him.

Viper resisted the urge to slap a hand to his forehead. “My name is Viper, for God’s sake. Its Sniper, I’m a fusion of Spy and Sniper, you blundering idiot.”

Soldier raised an eyebrow. “Oh. I guess, yeah. Forgot about him. Well you sound a hell of a lot like spy right now.”

Viper was a little taken aback by that, mind ticking.

**Sounded like you, the hell did that mean?**

_Forgot about you?_

Before he could ask either question on his mind, Heavy and Medic came charging in, Heavy screaming in a killers rage and Medic looking tired as all hell but fit as ever to kick some serious ass. Their charge was rather anticlimactic when they realized everyone on the other team was already dead. With the two extra bodies the point was captured in moments, and since they were already in overtime it took them about three seconds to win. However, nobody ran to take advantage of the humiliation round.

They all just stood and stared at Viper in silence as the sound of Heavy’s revved machine gun powered down to nothing.

Fusions were _extremely_ hard to maintain, and it wasn’t often that you got to just talk to one. A bizarre phenomenon of Mann Co. technology, it was only possible on field and when they were around, they were either fighting or nonexistent. It was risky to try new fusions -you never really knew if two personalities were going to go well together. It often ended in something very large, unstable, and dangerously uncontrollable. A team wasn’t likely to win with fusions they weren't used too, it was too difficult to involve them into successful strategies. They knew which fusions worked by now, and they more or less stuck to those.

But then again, there were always the exceptions.

Medic ran up to him, excitement written all over his face. “Oh my! Hello there!”

He smiled down and the fiery little man. Both Sniper and Spy had nothing but respect for him, so Viper too held him in high regard. “Hello, doctor.”

Heavy looked a little offended that he had to look up so far up to make eye contact, and strode towards him. “Who are you?”

Viper sighed. He couldn’t quite remember why exactly he had wanted to meet his team, they could be quite draining. It just meant he had to do this for the third time. “I am Viper.”

“Ooh! Splendid. And who are you made of?” Medic rubbed his hands together like he was looking at a piece of meat to chop.

At that, Viper frowned. “Honestly, it can not be that hard to figure out.”

He could understand Soldier and Scout being dumb, but he knew for a fact that medic was intelligent. Scary as hell, but intelligent.

“Well, I mean, you’re half Spy. That’s a given, but...”

Both Vipers eyes twitched, the four pupils going in different directions for a second.

_Seriously?! How dull is this team?!_

**They just recognize you more Spook, don’t worry. It’s not personal.**

_What?! I don’t care about that, that’s not- they’re our team, not my team. Why don’t they recognize you!_

**I donno.**

“Uh, Spy? Are you okay?”

He realized it probably looked pretty weird to just stand there and twitch at yourself whilst having a conversation in your head. He shook it off and scoffed. “I’m fine. And I’m not spy. Come on, who am I? I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Um...” Medic had the audacity to look around and try to figure out who was missing. “Spy and..”

Vipers form flickered as he snarled. “Why is that so obvious, but you can’t even guess at who else I might possibly be? Sniper isn’t any less of your teammate than I am!” He twitched, and curled his hands into fists. ”I mean than Spy is! He...”

Vipers body vibrated. “Agh!” He wrapped his hands around his shoulders. “He’s not any less important than me!”

The air around him hummed.

“Ayyye, what ya lads up to...-?” Demo swaggered through the massive fusion-shaped whole in the wall just in time to watch in stunned perplexity as Viper exploded into Sniper and Spy hard enough to send both mercenaries into separate walls.

Spy was on his feet in seconds, looking rather full of rage, and picked up right where Viper left off. “It’s disrespectful, negligent and disgraceful!! You should all be-“

His spiel was cut off by someone laughing loudly. Just straight up cackling from where they’d landed on the floor. All eyes turned to Sniper.

The marksman, still laughing, pushed himself up off the floor.

“Holy bloody hell, mate!” Then he ran at Spy and did the absolute last thing anyone thought he would do.

He threw his arms around the frenchman and _hugged_ him.

Forgetting that he was in full view of his whole team, forgetting he was suppose to be a refined and emotionless professional, Spy found himself immediately wrapping his arms around the bushman in return, closing his eyes, and pressing his face to his shoulder without a single hesitation.

Sniper drew self consciously after only a moment, but stayed close enough to mutter. “Is... is it always like that?”

Spy stared at him in awe. “It’s _never_ like that.”

Then, Spy noticed the team standing around them and pushed away from sniper slightly, coughing and straightening out his jacket. He knew he’d just been giving some sort of rant, but he wasn't sure what about. He couldn’t even remember why he was mad. Whatever remnants of the feeling left didn't even feel like they belonged to him.

“Gentlemen, I believe we have a victory to celebrate!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of dialog, but expect more action in the next one ;)

Spy swirled his whiskey in a frustrated circle, ice clinking against the sides sharply.

The engineer raised an eyebrow at him from were he was seated, taking up the other armchair in spy’s smoking room.

“You’re awful quiet today.”

Spy tsked and pursed his lips, taking a punctuating sip of his whiskey. “I’m always quiet.”

The Texan laughed softly, sitting back comfortably in his chair. “Sorry to break it to ya' son, but as much as you’d like to think you’re the mysterious silent type, you’re actually quite the talker.”

Spy rolled his eyes and his nostrils flared slightly. It was 8pm on Friday night, the same time he and the engineer always sat down in his smoking room for a drink each week. The two actually got along quite comfortably; Spy appreciated Engie's ability to be both intelligent _and_ sane, and Engie enjoyed the dash of sophistication and class Spy added to his evening. Jibes and differences aside, they were old friends.

Considering that, the Texan had gotten inexplicably and irritatingly good at figuring out what the Spy was feeling, in spite of how hard he tried to hide it. “You gonna tell me what’s on ya' mind, or sit there brewin' till I have to shake it outta you?”

Spy shrugged and took a long sip from his whiskey. It was not a slurp, just a loud audibly passive-aggressive sip.

Engie finished off his own drink and set it on the little coffee table between them, crossing his ankle over his knee to regard spy. “It was that fusion wasn’t it? You ain’t been right since then.”

Spy glared at the rim of his glass. Why was that damn cowboy so good at this? His fusion with Sniper had happened three days prior, and the story had been quick to make its way through the base. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, even once it was no longer the hottest topic amongst his teammates.

He sighed and set down his half empty glass across the table from Engie's. “I’ll admit it’s been... on my mind.”

The engineer chuckled and shook his head.“Oh, you don’t say?”

“Don’t push it,” Spy glared.

The Texan rolled his eyes, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. So it’s been on ya' mind?”

“Oui.”

“Well, it was a pretty weird situation.”

“Indeed.”

“You both looked a little... shaken after, I'll admit. What exactly happened?”

Spy sighed and searched his pockets for a cigarette. “Nothing happened. We fused and we fought and we unfused. It was simple.”

The engineer arched an eyebrow at him. “For some reason I doubt that. It was Sniper's first fusion, at least on this team.”

Spy looked up at him sharply, pausing in the midst of lighting his cigarette. “How did you know that?”

“Because I have eyes, Spy. Never seen him fuse with anyone, don't even remember hearing about it. The fella's such a recluse, I’m not exactly surprised.”

“Well. You’re correct, it was his first fusion." Spy took a draw from his cigarette and blew it out carefully. "Ever, in fact.”

Engie's eyes went wide. “ _Ever?_ Well damn son, don’t blame the man if he was awkward about it.”

“That’s not what this is about.” Spy answered sharply.

Engie looked to the ceiling with a small smile, releasing a deep breath through his nose. “Well, when exactly are you planning on telling me what it _is_ about?”

Spy flapped a flippant, gloved hand at him. “I getting there. I suppose I just...” he took another long draw, letting himself think. “I didn’t realize there was so much about him I didn’t know.”

His drinking buddy shrugged, unperturbed. “I don’t think anyone knows much about him.”

“Yes, but it is strange for me specifically to not know much about _anyone._ ”

“That’s... true.” Engie said haltingly.

Spy tapped the cigarette distractedly into the ashtray on the coffee table. “The part that bothers me is that I didn’t even think of it. It didn’t cross my mind to try and figure him out beyond the most basic checks I did on everyone. It didn’t bother me _not_ to know.”

Engie raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“It _always_ bothers me not to know.”

“Hm.”

“I just... I didn't even consider him.”

The builder shifted in his chair and crossed his arms. “Okay. But why are you so tizzied up by it now? You’re a great Spy, but no one's perfect. You can’t blame yourself for not considering just one fella.”

Spy's fingers tapped along his knee for a moment before he responded. “I’m perturbed because I don’t think anyone ever does. No one could even recognize him in Viper.”

“Huh. I didn’t see it, so I don’t really know. Didn’t come round till you two already unfused. Hey, bout that, it true that he hugged you?”

Spy's eyebrow dipped down and he shifted in his seat. “That is hardly the point.”

Engie saw right through his dodge of the question. He offered a small, prompting smile. “So what is the point, partner?”

Spy met his eyes of over the table, goggle-less due to the late hour and comfortable setting. “It was... I don’t know. I’ve fused many times with many different classes. I know what it is like. Even when I fused with you, one of my better memories of the practice by the way, it was still _just_ fusion.”

“And with our Sniper it wasn’t?”

Spy hesitated, then shook his head. “Non. It wasn’t.”

“So? What was it?” Engie urged.

Spy shrugged, hating feeling on the spot with something he wasn't sure of. “I do not know! It’s never been like that before. It was... effortless. Simple. Exhilarating. It was not... distant.”

Engie spread his hands. “So it was weird. That’s what you’re gettin' at?”

“Oui.”

“And?”

Spy bit the side of his lip slightly, looking away.

Engie read him like a book, crossing his arms again. “Out with it.”

Spy caved without much resistance. "Well, quite frankly I am worried."

His friend frowned. "Worried?"

“Yes.”

“What about?”

“About him.”

Engie stared at him. “Who?”

Spy scoffed impatiently, “Who could I possibly be talking about?!"

"Sniper?"

“Yes!”

Engine leaned forward. His tone sounded disbelieving. “Really? Why?”

“He is not okay.”

Engie's voice dropped a tone. “Woah, uh, okay as in...?”

Spy shook his hand and his head, waving the notion away. “Nonono, he’s perfectly _sane_ , that’s not what I’m implying. I just don’t think he’s okay. Emotionally."

His friend stared at him like he'd grown a second head. Spy ignored it and kept talking. "It’s disturbing, how lowly he thinks of himself. He felt like he was burdening me by fusing with me.”

Engie scratched at the back of his head, the confusion only growing on his face. “I don’t mean to sound coarse but... why do you care? How do you even know?”

Spy shifted in his seat, suddenly wishing he hadn't put his cigarette out prematurely. “Because I _felt_ it.”

“What!?”

“Like I said, not your average fusion.”

“But, that shouldn’t happen, that _can't_ happen. You can hear their thoughts sure, only the ones they share, but you can’t feel what they feel. You can’t tell anything about them that they don’t want you to.”

Spy reached out and picked up his half a glass of whiskey tiredly. “We have said the word _feel_ far too many times in this conversation.”

Engie took a deep breath, then leaned over and gave Spy's knee a friendly pat. “Well, I honestly don’t know what happened to you Spy, but if you're still thinking about it then it’s probably important. I just don’t know enough about fusion to help you, really. It’s not my field. You could talk to Medic, or better yet, talk to Sniper. I’m sure the man is capable of speech.”

Spy just shook his head. “I’ll get over it. It’s not like it’s going to happen again anytime soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think engie would be a chill friend


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the fun part starts. This fic is gonna focus more on character than action just FYI

It was the third day into their sudden, unscheduled, unexplained ceasefire, and Spy was already itching to stab something.

The Announcer hadn't bothered to tell them why they were suddenly on house arrest and all their up coming battles had been canceled. The BLU's were antsy and already starting to get bored, trying to find things to do with their days around the base, stuck with each other.

Spy was seething -Soldier had been on his ass the entire day over something the Frenchman didn’t even remember doing, and he was about ready to throttle the man. It was Spy's turn to cook and he'd had a lovely pot of pasta sauce bubbling happily on the stove before Soldier managed to spill the entire thing on the floor while shouting at him, burning Spy’s leg and coating his suit with alfredo in the process.

Sniper, who just so happened to be making coffee at the same time, found himself in a similar burnt-legged situation.

Spy's temper snapped, and he lunged forward to grab soldier by the throat and slam him into the counter, snarling in his face. “Why you idiotic, bumbling, sniveling little basket-case!”

Soldiers head was rather close to the stove, and his clothes were starting to singe. Fear of a fire in their only kitchen rather than fear for the soldier's life (he had been getting on everyone’s nerves, not just Spy’s) was what made the sniper step forward.

“Ah, watch the stove, mate.”

Spy whipped around at the interruption, ready to chew out whoever decided to try and talk to him, and utterly forgot he was standing in a pool of pasta sauce in fancy Italian shoes with absolutely no grip. He slipped before he could even begin to respond, and planted face-first right into Sniper's chest.

There was a really uncomfortable second were sniper grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling, and Spy felt like every other atom in his body shifted three inches to the left without his permission. It felt vaguely like he was being ripped apart, and also like someone was trying to stuff him into a fax machine.

Sniper must have felt it to, because he stiffened and gurgled and they both toppled to the ground in a heap.

It took them a second to realize they were one person when they hit the linoleum.

**Ow.**

_Mon deu._

They blinked open their eyes. They were on their knees on the floor, covered in pasta sauce.

“What the?”

They looked down at their hands. They wriggled their six fingers.

Viper finally connected the dots.

“Wait, what the hell!?!”

The fusion scrambled to stand, but the sides of his mind were freaking out too much for him to decide on how to use even basic motor skills. He ended up kneeling, holding the sides of his head, and shouting wordlessly. “Agh!”

**What the hell! What the bloody hell!**

_C'est impossible! Ce n'est tout simplement pas possible!_

**What the bloody fuckin hell!**

_Ahh!_

**Aaah!**

"Aahh!" Viper cried out again, panicking. His mind scrambled at itself.

_Bushman! Listen to me! Ça va, C'est bon, but we need to calm down!_

**What happened? Why did we- I... I can’t-**

_I don’t know, but we need to focus or we aren’t going to be able to move. We can’t do anything without both of us, Sniper I need you to focus! S'il vous plaît, work with me, please!_

**Okay, alright I'll try.**

Viper finally managed to look up. he blinked a few times, trying to gather himself. There were an awful lot of people staring at him, but he had other concerns at the moment. He grabbed the counter and pulled himself shakily off the floor.

“Ow. That wasn’t pleasant.” He announced, trying to sound like he was't falling apart. It was a bit of an understatement; he was covered in searing alfredo sauce and felt like he'd been through a meat shredder. It was the opposite of pleasant.

He stood to his full height. His head was only half a foot from touching the ceiling, which was impressive considering how high it was. Only then did he realize that quite a few people were yelling stuff at him, which he did not appreciate. He looked to Medic, who was the closest and the only one who might be saying anything even remotely important.

“Viper! Listen to me. You and Sniper need to unfuse, right now!” The doctor's voice was sharp, and he had his serious face on which was never a good sign.

Unfuse? Viper blinked and stared down at his short yet commanding teammate. He defiantly knew he should unfuse, all of him agreed on that aspect. Yet a tiny piece of him didn’t want to, and that part wasn’t Sniper's nor Spy’s. It was both of theirs.

It was Vipers. A tiny piece of him _wanted_ to exist.

He shook himself out and nodded at medic, not allowing the thought to linger. Staying together was a ridiculous concept. Of course he should split. “Unfuse. Right, yeah, of course.” He closed his eyes, and focused on the two sides of him. Focused on them as two separate entities, two individuals.

Nothing happened.

_.... Why isn’t this working?_

**Uh, how did we do this last time, Spook?**

_It just happened last time. Unfusing is even easier than fusing, or at least it should be. Something its't right._

**Well that's pretty bloody obvious.**

“Viper?” Medic urged, snapping him back to reality. “Now would be nice! We need Spy and Sniper back please.”

He opened his eyes again, four pupils finding the doctor in front of him. “It’, uh- it’s not working correctly.”

Medic stared at him like he was speaking a foreign language. “What? Working correctly- just unfuse!” he made a separating gesture with his hands to demonstrate.

"I'm trying!" Viper yapped, putting his fingers to the middle of his chest like he was trying to rip himself apart manually. He grit his teeth, trying to force his mind apart. “Gah, why isn’t this working?!”

_This is easy! This is supposed to easy!_

**I don’t know what I’m doing but it wasn’t this hard last time!**

_You don’t have to know. It’s simple, instinctual, you were able to fuse with me in the first place, this should come just as naturally!_

**Okay?! Then what’s the problem?**

“Aaaagh!” He grabbed the counter as he fell forward a bit, eyes screwed shut in sudden pain. He gotten his form to waver a little, but beyond that the only effect was feeling like he was sticking his fingers in an electrical socket. “Putain d'enfer- It is not working!”

“Spy! Separate your consciousness from Snipers.” Medic said slowly and forcefully, like he was talking to a disorderly child.

Viper whipped his head to the Medic to bark back at him. “I's trying! And I’m _not_ Spy!" His form wavered again, but all it succeeded in was hurting Viper more. He wrapped his arms around himself and staggered. “Aagh! Mon fuckin deu!”

Medic seemed to realize the fusion really wasn't in the position to do anything about its current state of existence, and stepped forward to take him by the elbows. “Alright, alright, Viper stop! Obviously something is very wrong, you two shouldn’t even be able to fuse at all off field. This shouldn’t be possible, but you are only succeeding in hurting yourself by trying to fight it. Come with me to the medical bay immediately, bitte.”

The fusion looked down at him for a moment before nodding. Straightening his back and shaking his shoulders out a bit, he tried to appear more put together. He was trembling slightly, and he kept his arms tight at his sides. He breathed through his nose to regulate it back to a normal pace, not wanting to hyperventilate in front of his teammates.

“Okay." Viper said out-loud to himself. "It’s fine, we're fine.” He couldn’t tell who was consoling who in his head. Wiping as much pasta sauce as possible off his arms onto his pants (they were already ruined so might as well), he moved to follow Medic.

Before he could, Engie leaned at him from across the counter, putting a hand on his arm to stop him. “Spy? You alright in there partner?”

Vipers brows lowered at him. He looked more confused and annoyed than mad when he muttered, “I’m not Spy.”

Engie searched for a response awkwardly. “Right. Well, are both of you alright?”

He coughed in discomfort. It was extremely odd to see someone he knew was his best friend, but to simultaneously feel like he barely knew the man at all. The Sniper side of him wondered why on earth Engie would be concerned about the likes of him, and his Spy side was painfully aware of everything he’d said to the engineer a week ago.

“We are a little conflicted at the moment," He said softly, neither amicable nor purposely unfriendly.

Engie nodded, patting his arm. “Of course. I’ll catch up with ya' later.”

**Catch up with us? Why?**

_I think he meant catch up with me._

**Oh.**

"Viper, come! Now please!"

He followed Medic diligently down the hall, absently rubbing his forearms and needing to duck ridiculously low to get through the doorway. His body was still tingly and sore, like his foot had fallen asleep but everywhere. Fusing had defiantly not hurt that much the first time. Or any time before that, for Spy at least.

**Uh, spook? Why are you worried about what you said to engineer? What did you say to him?**

_And all I told him was that this is a bizarre fusion. And it is, you shouldn’t be able to tell what I’m thinking if I don’t directly mean for you to, and you certainly shouldn’t be able to tell what I’m feeling. Let alone actually feel what I’m feeling. Given that you just did exactly that, something is wrong._

**Oh. I’m sorry.**

_What? No it’s not your fault, it’s-_

“Viper!”

He jumped as a voice brought him out of his head again. The voice was immediately recognizable, and he looked down at the young man who'd joined them in the hallway. “Oh. Hello again, Scout.”

The runner walked backwards in front of him, looking blatantly confused. “What the fuck man, why are you here? How are you even here?”

He realized suddenly that Scout was the only one who had addressed him like he was one, singular person. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he liked it a lot better than being called spy.

**I don’t know why you’re so caught up on that. Doesn’t bother me.**

_Shut up bushman._

He focused on answering Scout's question. “I donno, we are trying to figure that out momentarily.”

Scout continued walking in front of Viper and Medic, keeping up with the doctor's panicked half-run and the fusion's incredibly lengthy gait. “But we can't fuse off field! Dat ain’t even possible, like how did you guys even manage it?”

Viper shrugged. “I didn’t mean to. We didn’t mean to, I just fell into Sniper and then I kind of caught Spy, but we fell and I just... fused. It hurt. A lot. For both of us.”

Medic's head snapped up to him at that. “Fusion itself hurt? What did it feel like, can you explain?”

Viper shivered. “It felt like being... ripped apart. On a molecular level.” He didn’t realize he’d warped his hands around his shoulders again.

Scout squinted at him, then held up his hand and counted off points on his fingers. “First of all, fusion isn’t suppose to hurt, second, people don’t just fuse on _accident_ , and third, you’ve got a bad case of the pronoun switcheroo my dude. It’s _we_ or _I_ you gotta pick one.”

Viper's mouth fell into a slight frown and he raised an eyebrow at Scout. “You try having two bloody minds at once for more than five seconds. Your fusion with Pyro hardly ever lasts long enough to cause substantial damage. Moving is simple with two minds as long as you have the same goal. Speaking is not so easy.”

“You seem to be doin' alright with everything but the pronouns," Scout said casually. 

The fusion straightened his back. “I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Hey dude. You sound kinda British.”

“I’m aware.”

“It sounds like, super cool.”

Viper was not quite able to hide his smirk. “I’m aware.”

_It’s strange. I don’t hate Scout as much as I usually do._

**I don’t mind scout. Not a bad kid, if you get past the talkative part.**

_Ah. I see, you're rubbing off on me, Bushman._

**Sorry.**

_No I- I didn’t mean it as a negative._

Before he could embarrass himself any more or try to figure out what that meant, they'd arrived at the medical bay doors and Medic was shooing him in. He had to stoop again to step though, dispite the frame being higher than the one in the kitchen. Scout gave him a quick wave as he headed in.

“Well. See ya' man. Good luck.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I headcannon that Sniper has a lot of scars of all sorts, so if that's not something you're comfortable reading about...
> 
> Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of scars.
> 
> <3

Walking in together, Medic and Viper stood just inside the medical bay as the doors lightly thudded shut behind them. 

Medic faltered, raising a hesitant brow at the gurney. That’s where he usually told his patients to sit or lie down, but it seemed a little silly to ask of someone pushing ten feet tall. He wouldn't be able to examine Viper properly.

“Could you sit on the floor?” Medic asked tentatively.

Viper eyed the linoleum. The Sniper in him didn’t care, but the part of him that liked tailored suits and high quality leather armchairs _really_ really didn’t want to do that.

 **We’re already covered in Alfredo sauce, mate. Can't get much worse,** he thought to himself.

His Spy half cringed. _Fine._

He bent and sat on the floor with as much dignity as he could, cross-legged and back ramrod straight.

The medic walked up to him, hands on his hips. With viper sitting, they were about eye to eye. Admittedly, Medic was pretty short and Viper got most of his height from his legs, but his torso length was still nothing to sneeze at.

Medic gestured a floppy glove at him as he pulled two out of his pocket. “Shirt and vest off please.”

Viper paled, “Uuuhh.”

The doctor scoffed and rolled his eyes as he snapped the elastic of the gloves on his hands. “Ugh, come now, I’ve seen both of you without clothing before, now is not the time to be embarrassed! Spy, if you are the one with the problem, suck it up. And if it’s Sniper, then remember that your scarring will not be as bad as it usually is, now that you’re part Spy."

_Battle scars? That’s what you’re worried about Bushman? We have much bigger fish to fry, non?_

**Yeah, yeah. Fine.**

Viper nodded and undid his vest and button up with fast fingers. He was in roughly the same outfit as he'd been in after his first fusion, except his boots were gone and replaced with simple black socks. Sniper hadn’t been wearing any shoes when they fused, which was a possible explanation for why his footwear was gone. His vest was a grey pinstripe instead of his team's blue color, simply because Spy had been in a different outfit. Neither of them had been in uniform when the accident had occurred, so Viper didn’t have class insignias on his shoulders either.

He shed his top clothes, setting them aside as neatly as he could in spite of them being covered in pasta sauce. He paused then, because he couldn’t help but stare down in surprise at his chest.

_Dear god!_

**Huh. Even less than half the scarring. That’s nice.**

_This is less than half!?_

**_...Yeah._ **

He swallowed down a slight feeling of sick. Looking down was shocking to say the least. His torso had an intimidating amount of scarring; thick ones that ran in a massive Y-shape over his chest, crossed over by raised diagonal and horizontal lines as the reminders of other old battles. Spy could feel Sniper's embarrassment through their shared mind and body, and tried to make up for his reaction and pretend not to look. He'd had no idea Sniper's scaring had been that bad, or he wouldn’t have made light of it before.

There were smaller ones on his stomach and sides that caught his eye for some reason. They looked different from the other scars and he wanted to inspect them, but the feelings he got from Sniper when he tried to focus on them had him looking away.

In an attempt to move to a different subject, Viper put a hand lightly to his abdomen and tried to brighten the mood. “I’m better muscled than either of us are separately!” He laughed, and it sounded forced but he felt a little better after . It was true too, he was certainly slim, but he didn’t look unhealthily so.

“That’s true. Both of you are worryingly skinny, but together you fill out a little. Still not ideally, though, you should eat something.” Medic lectured, sounding entirely objective and filling out notes on a clipboard.

Viper tilted his head and peered to the side. “I donno what has happened to my arms, though,” He mentioned.

Viper did indeed have very skinny arms.

_That might be my fault. You might have impressive arms Bushman, but I guess we got mine._

**I worked for those arms, Spook.**

_Well we have my ass so at least that’s something._

**Oi!**

If the medic was confused as to why the fusion in front of him was suddenly blushing in embarrassment at itself, he didn’t say anything about it. The doctor put his clipboard down and stepped forward, rubbing his hands together in a way that was somehow slightly worrying to his patient. “Alright let’s see! I’ve never done an examination of a fusion before! They hardly last long enough to speak to, let alone get a good look at. This is rather exciting, no?”

“Uh, sure?”

Medic grinned at his own enthusiasm, “It would be fascinating to do an experimental vivisection! Who knows what your organs look like, or how many you have! Though, if you were to unfuse during the procedure that might cause some problems. Atch, there are too many variables! A well, I’ll just have to see what information I can glean noninvasivley, yes?”

Viper, who had started subconsciously leaning away for the doctor, now cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, perhaps that’s best, doc.”

Medic nodded and whipped up a small, low beamed flashlight seemingly out of nowhere as doctors are prone to do. “Try not to blink,” He instructed, and peered at the fusions rather odd eyes, shining the light in each. “Ah, fascinating! Two in each! I noticed this before of course, but it is incredible to see up close. Can you move them separately?”

Viper scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, trying not to avert his gaze from the blinding light for the inspection's sake. “What? Two what?”

“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t know would you? You should find a mirror later, if you are still fused. It’s really quite a sight. You have two pupils in each eye, one green and one brown."

He blinked in spite of being told not to. As far as fusions went, it wasn't too strange, but it did sound rather freakish. “Oh. Really?”

_You have green eyes?_

**_That’s_ what you’re surprised about Spook?**

Medic talked over his internal commentary, “Yes! It’s very interesting to look at. Can you attempt to move them separately for me, mein Freund?”

Viper, who seconds ago hadn't even known about his extra pupils, wasn't entirely sure how to go about that. He strained his eyes, but ended up just going slightly cross eyed.

The medic shrugged, said, “Ah well,” and started prodding at Viper's jaw. “Do you have any other mouths?”

The fusion sat rigid on the floor as he was poked. “Uh... I don’t think so? Not any I’m aware of...” How was he supposed to tell? He was suddenly overly self conscious of the mouth he _did_ have.

Medic furrowed his brow and bit the side of his lip, finishing his inspection of Viper's face and finding no extras of anything, mouths or otherwise. He grabbed his clipboard and started writing down notes, muttering to himself in German.

Viper picked at his semi-fingerless gloves nervously. “Is there a problem?”

"Well," Medic sighed, tucking his pen behind his ear when he finished writing. “It’s simply that you are very normally proportioned for a fusion. You have two arms, two legs, one head, one mouth, two ears, one nose, and two eyes, more or less. Extra pupils, twelve fingers and extreme height appear to be your only outward abnormalities."

“I mean, is that bad? To be normal...ish? What’s it mean?" 

“It means you are an extraordinarily _stable_ fusion. I’m not surprised, given how long you maintained your form before and the fact that you are fused now. And, as you mentioned before to Herr Scout, you are even speaking clearly in full sentences, which is very impressive. Your mind is in tact."

Medic didn't give Viper a chance to respond, steeping forward instead and slipping a stethoscope from around his neck into his own ears. "Hold still, bitte," He requested as he pressed the cold metal of the stethoscope to Vipers chest, listening intently. He moved to the left and nodded to himself, then moved to the right and grinned.

Viper swallowed, not sure if he wanted to know what Medic had heard. "What is it?"

Medic's smiling eyes flashed up to him as he continued to listen. “You have two hearts, mein Freund.”

“Is that normal? For a fusion, I mean.” He was now uncomfortably aware of his heartbeats, and he wasn’t exactly happy about it.

“I have no idea! I’ve never had the chance to find out until you came along.” Still smiling brightly, Medic started jabbing and poking around at Viper's abdomen with enthusiasm. “I wonder what other organs you have two of!”

Both sides of Viper silently agreed not to let Medic near their abdominal cavity with anything sharp. “Uh Doctor? Do you mind?”

“What? Oh, sorry, I’m just curious, haha!” He stopped poking, and stood to regard Viper instead like a lab specimen. “What was I saying? Oh yes, you are a very stable fusion. The less human-like a fusion's proportions are, the less stable it is. That’s why, say, Soldier and Scout's fusion has three legs and one arm, and can barely keep formed for a full minute. They simply are not compatible, and thus combined make something that finds it hard to exist.”

_So that means we are compatible?_

**Don't put it like that, sounds weird.**

Medic stood with a hand on his hip, eyeing Viper. “You said it hurt to fuse, yes? Do you still feel any pain now?”

Viper looked down at himself too assessing. “I’m a little sore yeah, but we both burnt our legs, so that’s really what is bothering me.” It was true. The sauce had been boiling when it was slopped on them, and had burnt them through their pants respectively. Apparently injuries were passed on through fusion, because it still hurt.

Medic flapped a dismissive hand, “Pfft, oh please that’s an easy fix. You will have to get on the gurney though, I can’t disconnect this medigun.” He patted the equipment mounted above one of the the hospital beds. Viper nodded, stood, and walked over in a few long strides. He straddled it easily and sat, feet reaching the floor on either side even with his knees slightly bent.

Medic snorted at the ridiculous position and flicked on a switch. A Blue stream poured into Viper's chest, immediately relieving the burns and dampening the soreness in his muscles. He sighed and leaned back on his hands.

The stream didn’t take too long. Once Medic was satisfied that there was nothing physically _wrong_ with him, they moved on the the real problem.

The fact that he existed.

“Okay. Spy, Sniper, this is obviously a big problem.”

Viper nodded. “I certainly agree. And feel free to call me Viper.”

Medic nodded professionally. “Viper. Now, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

Vipers eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, alright?” He didn't like the sound of that. Medic didn’t look overly concerned, so maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounded?

“There’s a reason I’m not as shocked about this as I would be in... different circumstances.”

“You’re telling me you’re not surprised?”

“No no, I am surprised. Just not _that_ surprised.”

Viper's mind raced, Sniper and Spy's thoughts scrambling to agree on what to question first. “Wait, what? Why? Were you expecting this?”

Medic shook his head and went to Vipers side, leaning his elbows on the gurney. “Not at all. Listen, I am not supposed to tell anyone this, but I suppose since we are apparently in the same boat it doesn’t really matter anymore. The truth is, there is a reason we are on cease fire right now.”

Viper raised a brow. “Obviously.”

“The reason is that RED has been experiencing fusion problems.”

“They can’t unfuse either?”

“Quite the opposite. They _can’t_ fuse. Not on field, not off field. None of them can. Even their most stable fusion pairs.”

“And you think this- _I_ am related to that?”

“It must be. There’s no way you are a coincidence.”

Viper tucked his knees up on the gurney, mulling over the information. He stared at his socks as he spoke to Medic, unable to decide out how he felt about it. “So... does that mean Spy and Sniper are stuck like this?”

“I don’t know. For now, perhaps." The doctor put a gentle hand on his leg in what was probably supposed to be a reassuring gesture. "I’m going to call administration first thing in the morning and inform them of the problem. I am sure they will be able to fix it. Obviously, the process of fusing stressed your form significantly, so I suggest not attempting to _force_ yourself to unfuse. If it happens, great. If it doesn’t, well we will figure it out. Okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Viper nodded and met Medic's gaze. “Alright, doctor. I appreciate the help.”

“Of course, mein Freund. Keep me informed, ja? If anything changes, even if you think it is insignificant, please tell me. No harm in letting me know.”

“Oui, of course.” Viper climbed off the gurney, tipped his fedora to the medic, and snagged his clothes on the way out. He only put on the long sleeved button up, and didn’t bother to do it up it all the way, only enough to cover everything. He didn’t even tuck it in. He held the vest gingerly, trying to avoid getting more sauce on himself.

**What are we gonna do?**

_I do not know. The best we can, I suppose._

**What's first?**

_Well, we are absolutely disgusting, so I suggest getting out of these now,_ he thought, grimacing at his clothing.

**Yeah, the Alfredo sauce is gettin' kinda cold.**

He started walking stiffly down the hallway.The Spy in him shuddered in discomfort. _What are we even supposed to wear?”_

**Oh shit, you're right. We’re real tall aren't we, nothings gonna fit us.**

_I mean, you have long legs right?_

**Not this bloody long! Nothing I have is gonna for us.**

_Well, we can just wash these and wait I suppose._

**Heavy might have something. Not anything long enough, but shorts maybe?**

Viper paused in the hallway and raised disgusted brows at himself.

. _...Shorts?_

**Yeah?**

_I am not wearing shorts._

**You don’t have to wear shorts, Spy. But _we_ might.**

_We are not going to wear shorts Bushman. I refuse to have anything to do with shorts._

**It’s that or walk around in our skivvies. If we even have skivvies.**

_Why wouldn’t we?_

**......**

_Bushman...?_

**....**

_Bushman._

**...**

_Were you not wearing undergarments when we fused?!_

**That’s my bloody business!**

_Bushman, I swear to god, do not try to lie to me when I am literally inside your mind!_

**I was wearing trousers!**

_Oh my god! Seriously?!! Ugh, you disgust me._

**I _am_ you.**

_Not always._

**Well _excuse me_ , Mr. Prissy Pants! If you were wearin' any we probably will be too.**

_What do you mean if? Of course I was! I, unlike you, was not raised on a kangaroo farm!!! And I had the decency of wearing shoes when you fused with me you idiot, and yet shoes are still something we seem to lack!!!_

**Oi! First of all, offensive, second, what with this ‘when you fused with me’ business? I didn’t fucking mean to do this, mate. I told you I didn’t know what I was doing-**

“Viper!”

He opened his eyes with a start at the shout, not realizing he’d closed them. “What?! Who's that?”

_It’s scout._

**When did he get here?**

_Just focus._

“Scout?”

The Bostonian was stretching up and jumping to wave a hand in front of the fusion's face. “Yo! Man, you were dead out of it for a minute there, dude.I called you like five times.”

Viper blinked and shook his head, trying to function. There were too many emotions in his head and body. He felt like a shook up bottle of bonk. “Sorry. Two minds,” He mumbled, hoping that covered the absolute mess that was his brain. Brains. Oh god, did he have two? 

Scout nodded. “It’s all good. Hey, wanted to ask, are you only being nice to me cause Snipes is in there? He too polite for Spy to hate me?”

Viper blinked down at the runner, taken aback by the words. Sure Scout could be annoying, but no part of him hated the runner. “Spy doesn’t hate you Scout. And you are the only one treating me like a person right now, so I don’t hate you either." He offered a small smile. "But having Sniper in here certainly doesn't hurt.”

The runner grinned a in buck-toothed smile. “Sweet. I like you Vipe, I think you’re a good mix. Looks like you got the best parts of both of those nerds.”

“Huh. Thanks, Scout.”

“You’ve got enough of Snipes to cover up Spy’s asshattedness, and enough of Spy to make up for Snipes' reclusivey-ness.”

To both their surprise, Viper laughed. He felt like he should be insulted, but he thought it was true. Spy did think Sniper was reclusive, and Sniper did think spy was an asshat, so Viper just though it was funny. He grinned. “If you’d said that to the two of us separately, I promise you we would have smacked ya'.”

“Pronouns man.”

“Ah, Yes.”

“So what are ya doin? Like standing here twitchin' in the hallway?”

“Hm? Oh, I am currently having a problem.”

Scout snorted. “Uh, okay?”

"I’m an absolute bloody mess," Viper continued, holding up his arms, "But I've had a bit of a growth spurt since this morning so nothing will fit me, I’m afraid.”

Scout shrugged. “Ask Heavy, man. He’s the biggest guy on the team. I certainly can’t help you.”

“Yes, that’s what Sniper was thinking. Spy doesn’t like that idea too much.”

Scout peered at him, looking both concerned and entertained. “God, I can’t imagine what it’s like in your head right now. It must be a madhouse in there.”

Viper shrugged. “We’ll manage.”

After excusing himself, it didn’t take him long to find Heavy. The man was usually in the medical bay with medic, but since Viper had just been there he could rule that one out. The only other places Heavy frequented were his own room and the kitchen. Viper tired the kitchen first.

As soon as he walked in, all heads swiveled in his direction. He stiffened up, hating the attention. At least with Spy’s experience being talkative, he knew what to do with it.

“Gentlemen.” He greeted with a slight head incline. He made his way over to Heavy, who appeared to have taken up dinner duty. “Excuse me, heavy?”

The giant of a man, now somewhat dwarfed by Vipers gangly mass, turned a raised eyebrow at him.

“Da?”

“Could I speak with you for a moment?”

The heavy nodded and set a new pot of sauce bubbling on the stove, leaving a massive oven-mitt on the counter. He followed Viper to the hallway just outside the kitchen while the eyes of their teammates tracked them to the door.

Once they made it to the hallway, Heavy leaned against it and crossed his arms. “What does fusion want?”

“I was wondering if you had any spare garments? Yours are the only clothes we stand a chance of fitting in.”

Heavy nodded, eyes sizing up the fusion. “Da, Heavy can help. You plan to stay fused?” He asked, gesturing In Viper's general direction.

Viper shook his head immediately. “What- no, no of course not. Once we can figure out how to unfuse, we will. immediately. We didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Heavy looked skeptical, and raised a brow as he turned back toward the kitchen. “If fusion did not want to be, he would not be. Spy and Sniper would not have fused for no reason. Maybe not conscious choice, but still choice. Will get clothes after dinner, clean yourself up, da?”

Staring after him, Viper stuttered a reply, “Oh, uh yeah. Yes. Thank you Heavy, and thanks for taking over dinner for Spy.”

“Is no problem,” Heavy waved an acknowledging hand as he left. The dismissive gesture reminded Viper of Medic, and he had the feeling the giant had adopted from him. 

Left to himself, Viper's existence was again interrupted by his own thoughts.

**What the hell did he mean by that? He made it sound like we did this on purpose!**

_I am not sure. You didn’t want to fuse, did you?_

**Not right then!**

_But... you did want to fuse again?_

**I mean... yeah. Someday. Being Viper during the match was... I’ve never done anything like that before. It was amazing.**

_I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it._

**Really? But you’ve fused before.**

_Yes. But never like that. Never like this._

**Even now?**

_Especially now._

**Did _you_ want to fuse?**

_Yes. I’ve wanted to fuse again with you since the first time. During a match though, not during dinner._

**You like being fused with me?**

_That’s a ridiculous question Bushman, I know you can feel that I do._

**I can. I just didn’t believe it.**

Viper realized he’d just been standing there in the hallway again, like the rest of the world had faded away. He shook himself and began to make his way toward the laundry room, halting the little mind conversation with himself. It made him feel weird when the two sides of him tried to think to each other, like he existed less the more they communicated separately. It was much easier if he focused on physical, tangible things. His mind felt a lot more like a mind when they just thought together.

With his new goal in focus, the fusion made his way forward as one mind. As the mind that belonged only to him, and only existed as two pieces put together. 

As Viper.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back from the dead, sorry for the wait! Had some medical stuff goin down, but I'm gettin better! Happy to be back :P

Viper reached the communal laundry room just as the sun was starting to set outside. He closed the door tightly shut behind him and groped around in the dark for the chain to turn on the bare bulb light, forgetting that he was much taller than the average human and jerking when it dangled across his face instead. Chuckling at his own antics, he tugged it and bathed the room in harsh light. There was a mirror on one wall, sink and washing machine on the opposite side, and he studied the reflection of the sink in the glass. He couldn't see himself from this angle, and decided to stay away from it for now.

He started unbuttoning and removing his clothes quickly, eager to be rid of the pasta sauce. When he slid off his undershirt, a knife fell out of his waistband and clattered onto the cold tiles. Viper bend to inspect it, picking it up and holding it up to his face. It wasn't designed like one of his throwing knives from before, it was just a small dagger designed to be easily tucked away and hidden into clothing. It was clear which half of Viper it belonged to.

**What the hell? Spy!**

_Oops. Apologies._

**Really? Knives? At dinner? In ya bloody pants?**

_What did you expect?_

There were four more knives hidden on his person, including a small one in his sock and in the cuff of his slacks. He pulled them out and made a little pile on the bench in the middle of the room, rolling his eyes at himself. It was an odd feeling to both agree and disagree with one's own self, but he attempted to keep from thinking on it too much.

He sighed and tossed his vest in the washing machine, adding his shirt and socks after shaking them to be sure no more knives were going to slice his only clothes to ribbons in the wash. One clinked to the floor, and he scooped it up with a snort and tossed it with the rest. Taking a deep breath, he went to unbutton his slacks.

_I swear to god sniper, we better be wearing something under these._

**Mate, I’m hoping we are just as much as you.**

Viper briefly contemplated just going outside to rinse himself off with a hose rather than find out if Spy and Sniper were about to see each other au naturel, then realized he was just standing there with his pants half undone while his mind argued. The fusion closed his eyes, and tried to focus. If he was one person, it wouldn't be embarrassing if he was naked, right? 

Holding his breath, he tossed down the slacks to reveal bright green boxers with little blue crabs embroidered on them. They were surprisingly... festive.

_Dieu merci!_

**That's one hell of a green, mate.**

_That... must because of you._

**I can tell you're lying and that makes no sense.**

_You can hardly judge my color choice when you live like a caveman! Green is better than nothing._

**That’s debatable.**

_It’s really not. Not for civilized people, anyway._

**I usually wear underwear!**

_This is not a conversation I have any desire at all to have with you._

**I was only gonna be at the base for a quick coffee, and then I was gonna take a shower!**

_Ugh, you haven’t even showered?!_

**Neither have you!**

Viper shook his head and grumbled wordlessly to himself, forcing his mind to shut up as he kicked the slacks all the way off and threw them in with his other clothes. He poured in a healthy dose of Mann Co. brand detergent and set his clothes spinning to wash, knowing the stuff doubled as paint remover and WD40. How it worked on clothes was not a question he felt the need to ask, as long as it got the job done. As far as he was concerned, anything that could make a white dress shirt look like it was in mint condition after you murdered someone in it was worth the health concerns. Half of him had apparently had experience with this, but Spy's business was his own.

Except when it wasn't. Because Spy was part of Viper, wasn't he? Why should he have to keep secrets from himself?

"Ugh, just stop thinking about it!" Viper said aloud, balling up his fists. The internal conflict was suffocating for him, it sucked to genuinely _like_ being alive and simultaneously be resented for it by the two people who make you _you_. 

Trying to stay goal-oriented, he looked down at his fists and realized his gloves were still on, sauce starting to crust between the fingers. He let his hands relax and went to slip off the black gloves, heading to the sink. He stood above the faucet, eyebrows furrowing as he held them hem of one glove between his fingers. But try as he might, he couldn’t remove it, no matter how much he willed himself to. It wasn’t the gloves that was the problem, he just literally couldn’t bring himself to take them off. Groaning at another miscommunication, or lack there of, he let his mind gently split apart again.

**What’s happening?**

_...Let’s leave them on, hm?_

**What, no! Why? They’re digesting!**

_We can just wash them while they are on! Please?_

**Spy, you saw my scars. I’m not gonna judge whatever you are hiding. It’s probably not even all gonna be there.**

_The gloves stay on._

Vipers fingers tightened on the fabric, and he glared down at the faucet without really seeing it.

**I’m taking them off.**

_What?! No, you can’t!_

Baring his teeth, Viper tore the gloves off quickly and flung them into the basin of the sink, but his eyes simultaneously snapped shut. He stood with his hands held out in front of him, eyes closed while his mind lashed at itself.

_Non! How did you do that?! I didn’t want to do that! Why did we do that when I didn’t want to!?_

**I donno Spy, we’ve sure said a lot of things I didn't wanna to say!**

_That's different!_

**No, it ain't**

There were a few seconds of stillness in his head as he stood, taking a few calming breaths. 

**I’m gonna open our eyes.**

They could both feel Spy's panic, and suddenly it felt a lot less like they were Viper and a lot more like Sniper and Spy were two writhing wrestlers stuffed in one mascot suit built for a four foot tall tween.

_No! Please don’t! Sniper, please don’t!_

Viper felt his frame shudder his mind become _their minds_.

“Agh!” he shouted and fell forward, grabbing the edge of the sink. "Fuck you both!"

**I think we’re unfusing!**

_I know, Try to keep going!_

The second they both had the same goal in mind and focused they're combined efforts on splitting, Viper felt the sides of him slam back together again. He collapsed against the sink. “Ow! Merde! Why can’t I fucking unfuse!!"

Viper opened his eyes and cursed again, hitting the metal of the sink in frustration. He blinked, and looked down to were he'd brought his hand down. He froze.

**Oh.**

_No, no wait!_

He ran a thumb over the back of one.

**Oh. I... didn’t expect that.**

He could feel every once of spy’s disgust at his hands. He inspected both, turning them this way and that. The entire back of each, and the two middle fingers of the six, were laced in intricate and delicate tattoos. The swirling design made its way down the back of the two fingers and spread to cover the whole back of each hand, ending at the wrist. It was all in elegant black line art, no shading or colors. There was a crescent moon in the middle of each hand, facing in.

**Spook...This is what you were hiding?**

_Put the gloves on sniper._

**Why did you...**

His eyes closed again, but the image of the tattoos still hung behind his eyes. He was starting to feel guilty, but it was hard to pinpoint who the source of the emotion was. It suddenly felt very quiet and dark, like nothing else existed except the two people sharing a mind. 

**Spy? What happened?**

_I..._

**You can tell me. I Promise.**

_I got caught._

His eyes opened, and this time neither side tried to stop his fingers from tracing the lines of the ink on his skin.

_Many years ago, I was on a mission working as a double agent. I was ratted out._

His hands laced easily together, and he leaned forward against the sink, aimlessly watching pasta sauce trail down the drain from the discarded gloves lying at the bottom of the basin.

_They did the usual torture, nothing I hadn’t dealt with before, but apparently I’d offended them on a personal level, and wanted to do something in return. So they did they worst thing, short of killing him, you can do to a spy: make them easily recognizable._

**They gave you these?**

Viper laughed aloud, but the sound was dry of any humor.

_No. They were not so kind, and settled for immortalizing what they thought of traitors on my skin instead. When I finally got away, I had three choices. I could leave the things they’d written on me, I could get them removed and have scars that were just as easily recognizable as would likely damage my hands in the process, or get tattoos to cover them. I hardly even considered the first two as options. I needed my hands, and I couldn't live with what they wrote on them._

**Jesus. I’m.. I’m so sorry spook.**

_This isn't even the full extent. Unfused, it covers both completely._

**So that’s why you wear gloves all the time**.

_Yes. And what else to I wear all the time?_

**What else do you-** Snipers realization, shock and disgust hit them both. **No, Spy they didn’t.** **They... didn’t tattoo your face did they?**

_..._

**Jesus. I'm.. I’m so sorry mate.**

_Those I had removed. Just scars now._

**Damn**. 

Viper sighed and separated his hands, lowering them to the sink, and glanced down at his bare chest.

_So where’d you get all the scars?_

**A lot of places.**

_Obviously. But where?_

Vipers arms moved to cover the scars, specifically the ones on his lower stomach as sides that had caught Spy’s eye earlier.

**Please don’t ask.**

The ding of the washing machine made Viper snap back into reality, and he shuddered a little. It had felt like he stopped existing for a second there, and time had gone by a lot faster than he was used to. He was an alert person by nature, the sums of his parts being from two very paranoid people, and he didn't like the idea that he could be so unaware of his surroundings for such a long time.

He grabbed the gloves out of the basin and rinsed them in the sink, stooping to wash his forearms where he’d leaned in pasta sauce as well. He moved he laundry to the drier and stood against the wall, arms folded over his chest and hands tucked under his arms. He felt glaringly naked standing there, all nine and a half feet of him, unarmed and in nothing but bright green crab boxers.

As if sensing his insecurity, there was a knock at the door.

He flailed to try and cover himself, calling out in the direction of the hallway, “Wait! Don’t come in!”

No one moved to open the door, thank god, but he still tried to hide behind the washing machine.

A deep voice answered him. “Is alright, fusion. Just Heavy. I leave clothes outside, da?”

“Oh," Viper sagged in relief calling back, "Yes, thank you Heavy!”

“Is no problem.”

He crept out from behind the washing machine and pressed his ear to the door, hearing weighty footsteps fade down the hallway. When he was sure the man was gone, he ducked out and snatched the pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor by the door.

"Ok! Let’s see what we’ve got here." He held up the first item, a big and surprisingly tactful burgundy sweater. He pulled it over his head hopefully, already appreciating the nice texture. But looking down, he could see the sleeves barely made it past his elbows, and the hem ended above his belly button. It was also about twice as wide as he was.

Viper snorted, shaking his head, “Oh, this is ridiculous.”

He started walking toward the mirror on the wall, curiosity and lighthearted dread building up simultaneously in his chest. “Non! I don’t want to see it!” He said out loud, but laughed at the same time. Viper only just managed to keep his mind together, even though the two sides of him disagreed, but he was deathly curious to see his reflection.

He squatted in front of the mirror (though it was full body it was much too short for him) and peeked his eyes open, smiling slightly with anticipation. The smile quickly gave way to shock. “Woah.”

He didn’t even look at his clothes, instead his hands went up instantly to inspect his own face, tracing over his stubbly sharp jawline visible under his half-mask.

"I look so... different." He slowly sat cross legged on the floor, mesmerized by his features. It was bizarre to look at a reflection he had never seen before, yet immediately recognized as his own. With a start, he noticed his eyes.

“Woah! Mon deu!” The four pupils he'd been told about darted back and forth as he studied each eye in turn. It was a bit disconcerting to look at, it didn't look natural but few fusions did. Ever curious, he took off his hat and placed it on the floor.

"Ha!” His finger length hair was a dark brown, almost black, with salt and pepper grey coming through at the temples and sneaking into his sideburns. It was stylish but messy, and he found he quite liked it. He reached with hesitant fingers up to take off the blue mask covering around his eyes and nose, but paused before he did, checking internally to see if this was going to cause another problem.

All he felt was combined curiosity.

Smiling to himself, Viper carefully slid his mask off. There was nothing spectacular about the reveal, he had sharp cheekbones and a short scar he must have gotten from sniper, a prominent nose, and thin dark eyebrows. The most prominent feature was a white patchy scar across his forehead. He ran a thumb over it.

“Removal scar,” He muttered, eyeing it for a few seconds before shaking himself out of it and looking down at the rest of him. The sight made him laugh. “We are wearing a crop top. Dear god.”

He stood and left the mirror, kneeling next to the pile of Heavy's clothes he’d left on the bench next to the knives. After a bit of sorting and failed attempts of trying things on, he found two t-shirts that were incredibly wide and only _just_ made it to his waistline, and a pair of khaki pants that would only stay on if he made a new hole in the belt and tightened it. The belt looped around him almost twice when he did so.

He went back to the mirror, and physically recoiled at the sight. “Oh, mon deu!”

The clothes draped over him like a sheet on a hat rack. All of it was baggy and about three times to wide, and even the Sniper side of him would be embarrassed to go out in public like this, not to mention Spy.

Viper sagged. He had no idea how long he was going to be like this, and he couldn’t just have one pair of clothes. It would have to do. He took Heavy's garments back off and folded them in two neat piles, one for the items that he could make work and one for those that were a lost cause. He took his clothes out of the drier when it beeped and slid into them, enjoying the crisp warmth and the fact that they fit him perfectly. He buttoned the vest and tucked in his shirt, grabbed his hat, secured his mask and presented himself in front of the mirror again.

He grinned. "Now that’s more like it! A huge improvement, don't you think? I do wish I had shoes, though." He wriggled his socked feet, wondering if anyone in the base wore above a size 14 or 15. He shrugged, grabbed his clothes and knives, double checked he was fully dressed and proper, and marched out the laundry room, shutting the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Features a tired boy.
> 
> Mentions cigarettes and addiction so just a lil warning about that!

The laundry door swung shut behind him, viper took maybe a dozen steps down the hallway, came to a split in the hallway, and froze to the spot. Up until now, he'd had a set goal in mind every second of his rather short existence. He'd been capturing a point, going to the infirmary, finding heavy to ask about garments, cleaning his clothes, those had all been easy enough focus points for his mind to agree upon. But now, there wasn't a clear correct next move, and he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself. He’d only ever existed for a purpose, fusions _always_ only ever existed for a purpose, winning the battle was their whole raison d'être. Now that he didn’t have any battle to win, any goal to accomplish, he had no idea how to... exist.

He looked around. What did people _do_ when they are just being alive? Did he count as a person? He checked his watch, a strange combination of Spy's sleek watch and Snipers chunky one, and had four hands. Spy had his set to run five minutes fast. It was only seven, and Viper had nowhere to go and nothing to do. The left hallway led to the main room and the base entrance, where Sniper's van was parked out front. The right lead to the rooms, Spy's being among them.

He gently let his mind split, hoping to maintain some semblance of civility in his head. What would he be doing right now?

_I would be reading in my smoking room._

**I’d be in my van, probably cleaning my rifle.**

_Ha! I'm not going to your dirty little van._

**Well I’m not smoking any death sticks.**

Viper felt his throat ache at the thought of cigarettes and made a face. It seemed like he’d gotten spy’s addiction, because now he desperately wanted one.

A troubling thought struck the half of him not hooked on nicotine. **Spook... where are we gonna sleep?**

Viper looked down at his long legs, remembering he was a great deal taller than an average human. Could fusions even sleep? He doubted any ever had the chance to try. He'd never even seen one get knocked out, they'd just unfuse.

**Whelp, how big's your bed?**

_Not... phenomenally large._

**Right. Well, the one in my vans a real squeeze, no way we're gonna fit**.

_Good, because that’s out of the question. I’m not sleeping in a urination lunchbox._

**Oi, back off the van.**

_We need somewhere to stay while we’re like this bushman, and I can tell you it is not going to be your vehicle._

**Fine. Then we gotta go turn everything off, I’m not leaving the heat on all night if I ain't there.**

Unknowingly, Viper wrinkled his nose in disgust. _Ugh. Must we?_

**Come on Spook, I just agreed to stay in the base. I’m leaving my van for you, the least you can do is try and work with me here.**

_Fine. Let drop the clothes off at my room first, yes?_

**Aight.**

With goals in minds, Viper shook himself back into motion and started off down the right hall towards Spy’s room. He reached it quickly, feeling natural in this section of the hallway in spite of never actually visiting it himself. Himselves? Frowning at the thought, he grabbed his keys and shoved them at the lock, surprised when it didn’t fit. He tried again, more carefully, but couldn't get the key in the lock.

“What the-” He brought the keys up to his face to examine them, annoyed. The room key was on a shiny black ring that he knew to be Spy's, but it had a kangaroo keychain on it that certainly didn't belong to the Frenchman. He 

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

**Our fucking keys fused?**

_It appears so._

**Dammit, that’s the opposite of useful! Why?**

_I really don’t know, bushman._

He stared at the useless key, belonging to a door that didn't exist. He knew fusion often combined weapons, he just hadn't thought that applied to _everything._

**Keys aren’t weapons!**

_I didn’t make up the rules! And you'd be surprised, I have defiantly used keys as weapons before._

**Alright, alright. Well you’re a bloody Spy right? You should be able to break into your own room, yeah?**

_Sniper, we have a brain, possibly two, please use it. Don’t you think I would have spy-proofed my own room?_

**Probably, cause you’re bloody paranoid enough to do that, but I also think you’d have a plan in case you got locked out.**

_Fine, yes I do have a plan._

**Great.** Viper rolled his eyes at himself and walked to a nearby decretive plant.

He sobered slightly as he pushed the leaves of the fern aside. _And bushman, I swear, if you tell anyone anything about my personal regards or my room I will kill you so many times you lose count._

**Oh relax. Who am I gonna tell?**

_No one. You are going to tell no one, because I will kill you if you do._

**You got lucky spy. You’re fused with the person on the team who’s best at keeping secrets. There is literally no one for me to tell, what ya think Demo or Scout or whoever is gonna care about what kind of curtains you picked?**

_Even if that was the case, I wouldn't have to find out. Because you aren't going to tell them._

He found a lock picking kit under some dirt at the base of the plant and brushed it off.

**Wow. Elaborate plan.**

_Shut up._

**It had to be a lock pick? You could have just hidden an extra key?**

_Ferme ta bouche._

Mothing the words mockingly to himself, Viper went back to his door, knelt in front of it, and got out the tools he'd need.

After about five minutes of twisting around and fussily poking about, he drooped his head against the door and sighed in annoyance.

_Why is this taking so long?_

**I don’t know what I’m doing!**

_Oh. That’s why._

**Oi! I won’t apologize for not bein a creep.**

_But I know exactly how to do this! We should too!_

**Yeah, seems like that, but it looks like I got more motor control than you do. Try and work with me, it’ll be better that way.**

It took him almost ten more minutes to relearn the muscle memory Spy already possessed and finally get his own damn door open. He slipped in quickly and shut the door behind him, keeping out the apparently prying eyes of the empty hall, according to Spy.

The room was clean and nice, but surprisingly non-descript. It lacked a since of belonging, like a hotel room. Tasteful, but anonymous. There were no personal belongings anywhere, no pictures on the walls or trinkets on the desk, like everything had been tucked and hidden away. All the furniture matched the dark tones of the room, and the bed was neatly made in the corner.

**Nice place.**

Viper placed the pile of cloths on the tasteful coffee table and was about to flop down on the armchair and try to find comfort in this half familiar, half alien room.

**Wait. We gotta go to my van.**

He groaned aloud, looking longingly at the chair.

**Come on.**

He swiveled and marched out of the room, taking another few minutes to lock it on Spy's insistence. He walked briskly through the base, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. A difficult task, considering his size and the fact that literally everyone in the base was wondering what the hell was going on with him.

When he slammed his forehead into a low doorway, all hopes of discretion were lost. “Aie! Holy bloody mother fils de pute!”

He looked up, holding his head, to see an extremely perplexed looking demoman peering at him. Viper realized the Scotsmen hadn’t been in the dinning room when he'd fused and likely had no idea what was going on.

“Hello, demoman.” He said irritably, checking his hand to see if his forehead for bleeding. “Fuck, that hurt.”

The demo let out an breathy little chuckle. “Wow, it uh, It looked like it hurt, mate.”

Viper nodded, not entirely sure what to say to that. He straightened, gesturing stiffly in the direction he'd been headed. “Right, well, off to break into my trailer!”

Demo laughed at that, seeming to have gotten over the initial shock of seeing the fusion rather quickly. At this point, he'd seen so much shit he was hard to surprise. He just shook his head. “Aye. Good luck with that lad. Lads. I ain’t even.... I ain’t even gonna ask.”

“Au revoir, mate.”

Demo gave him a weird look and a wave. “Yeah...”

Viper made it out the main door, and cursed when he realized he had no shoes. Luckily, Medic kept an extra pair of shoes by the door for wearing outside, liking to keep his work boots out of the medical bay. They were way too small, so he just shoved his feet in as far as they'd go and flopped to the door. He snorted.

**We look like mum just called for hep with the groceries.**

_What on earth do you mean by that?_

Careful to duck his head this time, he made it out and awkwardly flopped the short trek to the van. He reached the door, and bent to take a look at the lock. Raising a curious eyebrow, Viper reached out and tried the handle. It opened with a click.

**Oh. Guess I didn't lock up.**

_Is that not a little careless of you bushman? Or are you just inviting people to come snoop around?_

**I already told you, I didn’t plan on stayin' in the base long! Not like I expect people to break in.**

_You're not supposed to expect it, that's the point._

**If I didn't know you hate the van so much I'd find that suspicious.**

He stood on the first step, and the van groaned and shifted under his weight. He kicked off Medic's boots and hurried up. The doorway was even smaller than the ones they had in the base and he had to crouch awkwardly up the stairs to get in.

The interior was nice, a pleasant surprise to the part of him that didn’t know what it looked like already. A few rifles were hung up on the wall over the bed, along with Sniper's kukri. There were a few pictures and trinkets on shelves, and a little bookcase with overused books. A clean, hardly used kitchen area merged into a makeshift living area with a tiny couch. There were some discarded cloths tossed about here and there, but it was the messiest thing about the place.

**Not as bad as you thought, huh?**

_Oh, get out of my head._

**Heh. Just because I live in a van don’t mean it’s gotta be a gross van.**

Viper made his rounds, turning off the lights and the space heater and making sure everything was in order. He grabbed a bag and stuffed a few things in it, not really sure what to pack.

He finished faster than he liked, and sighed, glancing around in the doorway on his way out, obviously stalling.

_Dear god sniper it’s not like your never going to see it again._

**Shut up, spook. I love this van, she’s got me though a lot.**

_Mm. Do you two need some time alone?_

**Actually yeah that'd be great.**

He chuckled and left the van, locking the door from the inside and pulling it till it clicked shut. He tried it a few times just to be sure it was locked, jammed on Medic's boots, clomped to the base, tried to leave them in the position he'd found them, then practically ran back to Spy’s room.

It was probably time for dinner, but eating was the absolute last thing he felt like doing. He picked the lock, shoved himself inside, leaned against the door so it shut, and sighed when he was finally alone and could relax.

Except he wasn’t alone.

_I don’t know how long I can take this bushman._

**Me either. I’ve got a very strict routine, and we’re breaking all the rules here.**

_Likewise._

**Well, we're in your room. Wanna do yours? Maybe it’ll make us both feel better.**

_I... i suppose._

He stood from against the door and jerkily made his way through some of Spy’s evening ritual.

_Make sure the door is locked._

He reached behind him and slid the bolt in place. **Check.**

_Get the chain as well. And the lock at the top._

He did so, not bothering to address how unnecessary it was.

_I take off my balaclava._

Viper nodded and removed his hat, mask, and gloves, placing them on the coffee table. He then thought better of it, and hung his hat on the coat rack instead. **Alright, check.**

_I make some tea._

**Wouldn’t mind a cup.**

Viper approached the portable stove set up on Spy's counter and set a little silver kettle on it, setting it to boil.

_I’d usually have taken a shower by now, but I doubt that’s something either of us want to go through right now._

**Ha! Got that right. It’d probably be uncomfortable enough to make us unfuse.**

_You do realize that the result of that would be far more uncomfortable?_

**Yeah. Let’s skip that tonight**.

He made his way to Spy’s reading chair and sank down to wait. He knees were tucked up awkwardly, as it was ridiculously small compared to their height. _His_ height. He groaned and rubbed his temples. 

**So the teas on. What do you usually do now?**

_Smoke._

Just the word in his head made him ache for one. It was an odd feeling, wanting something he'd never actually experienced himself.

**Right we’re gonna skip that. I’m not smoking any death sticks.**

_Ugh, fine. Then I read when I have my tea_.

**Really? Jeez alright. I guess we can do that.**

_What? Is that not an acceptable pastime?_

**No its fine. Just thought you'd do somethin' more... sneaky I donno.**

_Oh dear god. My head hurts._

**Mine too.**

_Yes obviously, you dimwit._

**Shut up.** He reached for the book on the coffee table, scooting his gloves out of the way. **What we reading?**

_The Decline of the West._

**Mm. That sounds... fascinating.**

_Just read._

He flipped open the book to the bookmark, simple and sleek black with a little French saying written in silver, and proceeded to stare at the page for a solid five minutes. As hard as he tried, he could not seem to figure out what was happening on the page. Reading for Viper like trying to catch tadpoles with your toes; uncomfortable and everything you went after slipped arrogantly away.

_Dear god, I knew you were uncivilized but I was unaware you didn’t know how to read!_

**Shut up! I bloody well do know how to read!**

Than why couldn't he? Viper blinked hard and stared at the page, as if he could reset his head. It was incredibly hard to concentrate, and the words kept shivering and swapping letters.

_I must confess I often find it difficult to read written English. But it's never like this._

Or maybe it was just hard to read with two minds. The tea was ready anyway, if the whistle coming from behind him was anything to go by, so he abandoned the book to retrieved it. He didn't pay much attention to which kind he tossed in, and struggled briefly with how much sugar to put in. Sniper took none and Spy liked two, so he settled for one.

He sat awkwardly back in the small chair and sipped the tea, cupping it with both hands, staring at the wall. Even the mug was too small for him, and his tea was gone much too fast.

**Right, well. I guess we should just... go to bed.**

He sighed, wishing he knew enough about himself to have something he enjoyed doing in the evenings. To be fair, it was only his second time being alive.

_I suppose._

He striped quickly down to his boxers and yanked one of heavies oversized tee shirts on, but not before getting another glimpse at the scaring.

_Wha-_

He hit the lights. **Don’t.**

With a huff, he climbed into the bed, cramming in and trying his best to fit.

His feet hung over the end, so he pulled his knees up, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He tired so hard not to think, just to quiet his mind, let go of the events of the day, and go to sleep. His breathing slowed. He closed his eyes.

_..._

_This is impossible. How am I supposed to sleep with you here?_

**I donno mate! I’m... sorry.**

He frowned and rolled to his side, curling his arms around his legs. _No it- It’s not you fault, bushman._

**You don’t know that. I’m the one who’s never fused before, there obviously something wrong with me.**

His eyes flashed open at that, unseeing as the conversation in his mind continued. _What? There’s nothing wrong with you bushman, this is just a malfunction, you heard what the doctor said._

 **You don’t gotta sugar coat it for me** **Spook. I know this is my fault.**

_It’s not your damn fault, stop saying that._

**...**

_Bushman._

_Bushman?_

He hugged himself slightly tighter, and bit his lip, nervous of himself.

_...Are you okay?_

**The fuck does that mean?! Wha- what kind of question is that spook!?**

"I know you're not," he whispered aloud. It felt so exposing, even in the dark empty room, to say the words. Like he was confirming something within himself, even though he didn't quite know what it was. 

He burred his face in his arms, like he could hide from it. Like it was that easy. **Then why’d you ask.**

_There’s something wrong. I can feel it coming from you just as much as you can. I felt it the first time to._

**Go to sleep Spook. Please. I'm not one of your mysteries.**

_I can’t! Not with you here!_

**It’s not like I can sneak up and stab you in ya sleep! Trust me, if we unfuse I’m outta here.**

_No bushman, I can’t sleep with you talking in my head!_

**Well neither can I!**

_So are we just going lay here?!_

**I spose so!**

_Fine!_

**Fine!**

He twisted angrily to his back, resuming his staring contest with the ceiling, the two side of his mind pushing the other away and doing nothing but making him extremely uncomfortable and very _very_ awake. It was about twenty minutes of this stiff, forced separation until he couldn't do it anymore, he had to try something else. Turns out having a tandem temper tantrum wasn't a great sleep strategy. 

_Bushman._

**What?**

_I think we’ll feel better if we join our minds again. We might actually be able to sleep._

**Tough luck. I ain’t letting you back in my head again.**

_Why not?_

**Cause ya poking around, ya spook.**

_I’m not! Well, I don’t mean to. I feel what you're feeling bushman, it just happens. it's out of our control._

**...You won't nose around?**

_Even I can't be a spy in my sleep Sniper. Just promise not to piss the bed in return._

**Ha ha. Fine, I'll letcha in. just... sleep well Spook.**

That surprised him, as much as he wished he could hide it. _Oh, yes, goodnight bushmen._

Viper's mind eased together into a single entity, with singular purpose of getting rest, and it was the most relaxed he'd felt yet. Spy and Sniper settled into place like light feathers, putting him together like a puzzle that had been tossed around in a box all day getting the final pieces finally pressed into place. he closed his eyes, and consciousness finally melted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcannon that Sniper is dyslexic, he just doesn't know it. Viper is also dyslexic, and I based it off my own experience with it. Learning to read was a biotch for me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry it’s been awhile, I’ve been focusing more on some other fics. This will be my last post before I get surgery, but I should be able to get some writing done while in recovery! I’ll do my best to stay on top of it for y’all ❤️

His eyes snapped open and he was suddenly unwaveringly, glaringly awake.

He blinked twice and stared up at the ceiling in the dark. It was too dim in the room to tell what color it was, or even what material it was. 

Where was he?

 _Who_ was he?

He sat bolt upright, and cursed as he pulled his neck a little from the weird curled up position he’d been sleeping in.

 _Sleeping_? He could _sleep_? He was about ninety percent sure he’d never done that before. For all he could remember, he was either conscious or...

Nonexistent.

His six fingered hands came up to feel and poke his at face, and after a moment a smile crept over his face.

 _Viper_. That’s right. He was Viper, the fusion of Sniper and Spy and BLU teams recent anomaly. He was real, he had a name and everything, he was alive and existing. Sleeping was something that living people did, and now that privilege was his as well. Vipers whole body relaxed, and he flopped back down on the bed with a grin.

Just the thought of existing made him laugh giddily to himself. As much as it was problematic and taboo for him to be here, he _liked_ being alive. It was fun! Sleeping was fun -he felt fantastic and rested and awake! Existence for him was like being a sneaky teenager; an awful lot of people were wagging their fingers at him for it, but the first hand experiences were just so incredible. Everything felt... new.

Viper and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, proud of himself for being the first fusion to ever get a good nights sleep. He was impressed he’d even been able to manage it, but he felt completely in control of his mind. Viper was one, rested and peaceful and whole.

He paused, and his eyes adjusting and darting around the room. Why was it so dark? What time was it?

Viper glanced at the clock, and that’s all it took for the brief moment of blissful peace inside of him to melt away.

**Christ it’s early, why are we awake?**

_I always get up at 5:00 am._

**Bloody hell, course you do.**

_Oh, I’’ sorry I don’t sleep until noon, branluer, are the conditions too harsh for you?_

**Oh shove it, can’t we just go back to sleep? Get up at a decent hour?**

Viper fumbled with Spy’s sheets, considering tucking himself back into a ball and trying to sleep again until the sun rose. While it did seem inviting, he found that he wasn’t particularly tired. Maybe his internal clock was adjusted to Spy’s routine, or perhaps fusions just didn’t need as much sleep. No one had ever been fused long enough to find out.

He moved the covers aside to slide out of bed and stand, stretching out his long limbs, but as soon as he was vertical his eyes widened and he froze.

**Fuck.**

_Merde_.

The situation he’d dreaded most, the very event he hoped he would never have to face, was coming to fruition and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He needed to pee. Badly. Right now.

Neither side of him wanted to even _think_ about trying to pee using someone else’s facilities, much less while that person was literally conscious of you doing so and present in your mind to watch you do it.

This was definitely not on the list of ‘fun life experiences’ that Viper had wanted to participate in first hand.

The sniper side of him tried to keep things cool. **Right. It... It’s not a big deal, okay? Right? Everyone does it, there’s even a book about that, look, it doesn’t have to be a big deal.**

Apparently getting up at five didn’t make Spy any friendlier of a morning person. _Then why are you mortified at the thought?_

**So are you!**

_At least I have the maturity to admit it!_

**Oh brilliant well what do you suggest we do then, Mr. maturity?!**

_Die, preferably!_

**That’s so incredibly not fucking helpful.**

_Oh you misunderstand. I’m entirely serious. I’m not going near a restroom with you. I’d rather die._

**Maybe doc can help? Extract it medically, I donno?**

Viper shuddered. The last thing he wanted was a _third_ person involved in this process. He plopped down to sit on the bed, tucking his legs up, hoping it would make the pressure in his bladder go away and buy him some time.

Instead, it got worse.

The sniper in him brought up an image that mentally scarred them both. **Oh Christ, what if we have two?!**

Viper’s hands cam up to clutch at his head like he could physically remove that thought from his brain. “Why would you think that?!!?” 

**We have two hearts! It’s possible!**

Viper fell back into the bed, yanked the sheet over his head and groaning in embarrassment and misery, feeling his face go beet red. He couldn’t exactly hide from himself, but god did he want to.

**Snakes have two.**

Half of him wanted to murder the other simply for that statement. _I could have gone my whole life, bushman. My whole life, without knowing that. You have just taken that small bliss from me, congratulations._

Viper squirmed around a little. This was starting to become an emergency, and arguing was not going to fix it. He needed some kind of plan. He had a common goal, as much as he dreaded to achieve it, but at least they could try to work together here.

The only problem was this was the last thing either of them wanted assistance with. 

**Okay, okay I’ve got an idea.**

_I know, I’m in your head, imbecile._

Viper stood as the idea formed, half heartedly making the bed as if the procrastination would somehow push his problem father away.

The only reason this was embarrassing in the first place was because there were two of them right? Normal people weren’t embarrassed to pee. And that was just the thing, Viper _was_ one person. At least, he could be, if he tried. Hell, he had been just a few minutes ago.

It wasn’t embarrassing to pee by yourself. 

So all he had to do was focus on being one person, and then it shouldn’t be a problem. He could probably shower if he wanted to, which he did because he could still smell yesterday’s pasta sauce.

**Think it’ll work?**

_I legitimately see no other option._

Viper nodded to himself and gathered up Spy’s toiletries, brows furrowed in thought. He pulled on a pair of Heavy’s pants, tucking his still mostly clean clothes from yesterday under his arm to change into after his shower.

Viper stood in front of his door, secured his mask in place, and took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and focused the stubborn wall between the two sides of him.

_Sniper, you’re going to have to let me in._

**I know.**

_Completely this time._

**I... I know.**

Viper clenched his jaw. Last night, they’d tried to merge like this and it had worked out fine, but he’d fallen asleep relatively fast after that. He hadn’t given himself time to linger in it, to explore his mind in that state. He was wide awake now, and was going to purposely try and keep Spy and Sniper’s consciousnesses as similar to one entity as possible.

He had no idea how much they might get lost in each other.

He let out the breath, relaxed his body and mind, and when he opened his eyes his head was quiet.

  
  


It worked. It actually _worked_. Viper trotted to the communal base bathroom and went mindlessly through the motions of some half-recognizable, half-foreign morning routine that was probably a hybrid of two. He couldn’t exactly tell, because he didn’t let himself think about it. He just went with muscle memory.

Viper was relieved to find -if only because he wouldn’t be sure what to do in any other case- that his anatomy was entirely normal downstairs. He was thankful to get that part over with, and had never been more happy to not be a snake.

He took a quick shower, shedding all lingering scents and traces of pasta sauce on his skin, and realized it was his first interaction with water as Viper. The spout was far too short for him so he had to stand in a weird squat, but he loved the feeling of water through his hair.

He only reached a complication when he reached for conditioner first instead of shampoo. His hand froze halfway to it, and something split.

**What?**

_I always use conditioner first._

**Wha- who even does that?**

Viper panicked a bit as his consciousnesses shifted away from each other in disagreement, so he quickly just dumped the closest hair product on his head and scrubbed it vigorously into his hair like it could block out his thoughts, cramming his selves back into the ‘we are one entity’ box.

Viper struggled most with trying to find things to think about. His head felt oddly empty, like he didn’t have enough memories of his own to fill it with yet. Everything he knew was associated with one side or the other. But Viper himself had very little material to work with. He didn’t want to run the risk of splitting his mind by focusing too hard on a memory only one of them had.

So, he settled for the Happy Birthday song. It felt a little stupid and got boring incredibly fast, but was the most neutral thing he could come up with. Both Spy and Sniper knew it well, didn’t associate it with anything in particular, and it fit easily in Viper’s head. He sang it on loop under his breath.

Only once he finished showering and was standing in front of the mirror, fully clothed in his own outfit, did he pause in repeating to himself what was now definitely his least favorite song in the universe. Meeting his own eyes in the mirror, he stopped short as he realized that might be his first completly neutral opinion. It made him smile slightly. Happy Birthday. That was a song that Viper _didn’t like_. No one else had made that decision for him. It was something he’d experienced and made a decision about. It wasn’t sniper, it wasn’t spy. That was a feeling that belonged to him, no one else.

Viper grinned.

It was all going well after that until he couldn’t decide what hand to shave with. He’d planed on managing the stubble on his chin and jawline, but instead he could only hesitantly switch the blade back and forth between hands in bewilderment.

Tentatively, he poked at his brain, just enough to try and stir up some memories.

Sniper was right handed. That was easy enough to recall. He frowned when he realized that Spy was right handed as well.

What was the problem then?

_I’m right handed yes, but I shave with my left hand._

Viper frowned at himself in the mirror. “What?”

_I broke my wrist many years ago, I had to learn while it healed. I just never switched back._

Sighing in annoyance at yet another bizarre roadblock, Viper attempted to shave. First with his right hand, which felt uncomfortable, and then his left, which was downright impossible. He ended up holding it in both hands and with several nicks on his chin and lip.

He tossed the razor to the counter and went for the toothbrush instead, thinking there couldn’t possibly be a problem with something as simple as brushing his teeth. He brought it halfway up to his mouth before again, like the universe was proving him wrong, something stopped him.

Because wasn’t exactly _his_ toothbrush, was it?

Not entirely.

**I do not want to brush my teeth with your toothbrush, mate.**

_And I don’t want my brush anywhere near your mouth, glad we’re on the same page._

But he was tired of the fighting. Of the stubbornness. Determined to see himself as one person and not two, Viper pointed at himself in the mirror.

“Shut up.” He said aloud. “It’s mine now.”

It _was_ his toothbrush. Anything that was Spy’s was his.

Viper jammed the brush in his mouth and scrubbed ferociously at his teeth, violently humming Happy Birthday to himself in spite of a strong and uncomfortable feeling that he was scrubbing someone else’s saliva into his mouth.

But it wasn’t like he could catch something from himself, right?

He finished with a flourish and spat in the sink, jabbing the slightly crushed toothbrush at his reflection in the mirror, dribbling paste and finishing the terrible song he been using to staple the sides of his mind together at the top of his lungs. 

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUU!”

The last note wobbled through the acoustics every large bathroom seems to generate, and as his finale faded he heard the door to his right creak.

His eyes tore away from himself in the mirror, focusing instead on a extremely shocked looking Engie in pajamas staring at him halfway through the doorway to the communal bathroom.

There were a few seconds of quiet, very intense eye contact between them in the mirror before Engie began to back away slowly.

“Right, I’ll just.... come back later then.”

“No, engineer-“ Viper shoved the toothpaste off his face hurriedly, plastered on what he hoped wasn’t a weird looking smile and turned toward the door. “It's fine!”

He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted Engie to stay. Maybe his teammate could distract him, plus he didn’t want the scene the mechanic had just witnessed to be his main impression of him. “I’m almost done anyway, don’t let me... stop you.”

The Engie looked hesitant, which was fair, but he still nodded and walked to the line of sinks, stopping three taps down from the fusion. He glanced over as he got out his own toothbrush. “You, uh... you alright son?”

“Yes, yes I’m perfectly alright, why do you ask?” Viper blabbered back, hopping Engie hadn’t noticed that he’d been brushing his teeth with gloves on.

Engie shook his head a little too fast.“Oh, uh, no reason. Get any sleep?”

Viper started attending to his hair, realizing that having it stick up everywhere wasn’t helping him look less insane. “Yes, actually. And not too shabby either.”

“Didn’t know fusions _could_ sleep.”

Viper glanced at him. “Me either.”

The Texan gave a huff that may have been a laugh, and started brushing his teeth awkwardly, trying very hard not to stare at Viper in the mirror.

Well, at least he was trying to be cool, he had always been the polite one on the team.

Viper finished stying his hair in a simple sweep back over his head. It was a calming process to him, and he quite liked the look of it. Another opinion he could claim for himself, maybe he should start writing them down.

He zipper up Spy’s toiletries, staring down at his gloved hands, flicking any stray water droplets from them. He didn’t lift his eyes, but after a pause he spoke to the man standing next to him. “Engineer, may I ask you something?”

He heard the chkchkchk sound of Engie brushing his teeth pause, followed by a muffled, “Sure son, what’s on your mind?”

“What do you think, considering the... components of my person, I would like to do?”

After a few seconds of silence he looked up to see Engie staring at him with toothpaste escaping down his chin. The man shook his head. “Afraid I don’t quite follow.”

Viper immediately regretted asking. It felt like it was a stupid question, but he knew that Engie was his best friend ans was the least likely to judge him for it. Well, half his best friend anyway.

“What do I like to do?” Viper clearified, “I’ve been having trouble finding a purpose for my existence.”

The mechanic finished with his teeth and leaned against the sink, mulling over the question. “Well now that’s interesting innit. I’d say that’s because you don’t _have_ one. I’ve only ever seen a fusion with a job to do, and-“ he gestured around them at the empty bathroom and- by extension- currently functionless base. “Aint no job to do right now.”

“So, what do I do instead?”

Engie shrugged, “Keep yourself busy.”

“But, every time I attempt to do so I get stuck, the two halves of me fight if I don’t have a common goal.”

The Texan raised an eyebrow at him. “Sounds like you got a lot going on in there.”

Viper chuckled softly. “You have no idea.”

His friend looked him up and down with a thoughtful face, took a moment to come to some kind of conclusion, and spoke as he started to take out his shaving supplies. “If you ask me, normal people don’t have ‘a purpose’ Viper. There’s no reason we’re here, unless you wanna get religious about it. Even then, we aren’t built like machines, we aren’t programmed with intent. That’s why you gotta fine your _own_ purpose, as bullshit as that sounds. Seems to me like you got some soul-searching to do.”

Viper stared absently as Engie began to shave, trying to come to terms with what had just said. “I...don’t think I know how to do that?”

Engie snorted. “Well I donno if I can help you with that, but I’ll tell you what.” He rinsed his razor and looked up with half a face of shaving cream. “Wanna know what I do? When I get stuck on my head? Spend too long in the shop or somethin?”

The fusion nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Yain’t gonna like the answer.”

Viper folded his hands in front of himself patiently. “I’m prepared.”

“I socialize. I talk to people. Spy knows this, so I know you know it too, but talking can actually help, even if it’s just about nothin. You want my advice? I say find some company today, I’m sure the team would be happy to get to know ya. They might not always be the best, but they sure ain't all bad. If you can’t stand to sit with yourself, sit with someone else. And youre always welcome at the shop, if they’re too much for ya.”

Viper blinked in surprise, too taken aback by the last sentence to really think about the rest of what Engie had suggested. “I am?”

“Always have been. Spy and Sniper have, at least, though the latter might not have known it. Only makes sense the offer extends to you. I might not be able to help you find your purpose or whatnot, but I can sure take your mind off things.”

Viper smiled, and if he hadn’t been before he was suddenly very sure that the Engineer friend. Sniper didn’t have any to speak of, so it only made sense m they’d default to Spy’s. “Thank you, Engineer.”

“No problem.”

Viper gathered his things and made his way to the door, but Engie’s voice stopped him before he could leave.

“It Sniper’s birthday, by the way?”

He turned, slightly confused. “No?”

Engie frowned. “Well it ain’t a Spy’s, I already know the sad day that sucker was born.”

Viper felt his face go red as he remembered the scene Engie had walked in on. “Oh! Oh that, no, it’s no ones birthday.”

Engie chuckled easily, obviously not too weirded out. “Well alright.”

Viper made it back quickly to his room and let himself in, noting that he was getting better and better at picking his own lock each time. He tossed his old change of clothes on the bed, too excited to deal with it right then, and went to Spy’s desk, looking for a notebook. He was glad when his head posed no argument to riffling through Spy’s stuff, as long as he didn’t open the three bottom drawers, his mind stayed happily in one piece.

He found a simple black journal, and flipped it open. The first page had a list of recipes he didn’t actually care about, but the rest of the pages were blissfully blank. With a grin, he tore the page out and tossed it the empty wire bin, grabbed a pen, and plopped down in Spy’s chair. He’s long knees crunched against the desk and he cursed, painfully reminded that he was too large for everything, hobbling over to sit cross legged on the bed instead.

There was a title page in the journal stating who it belonged to that Spy hadn’t bothered to fill. Viper uncapped his pen and put his name on the dotted line to mark it as his first real possession, besides his clothes.

He flipped to the first blank page, titling it ‘Day One’ in bold print. He was happy to see he’d adopted Spy’s curvy style of handwriting, but kept Snipers distinctive lettering. Writing was much easier than reading, and he could make the letters as large as he wanted.

Viper stared at the empty, lined white paper for a few seconds before he inked the first bullet point, writing ‘I hate Happy Birthday’ with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I just drew a pic of Viper recently, it’s on my tumbler ⬇️ :p
> 
> https://anonymous-astronaut.tumblr.com/post/640800497299783680/ive-been-neglecting-his-fic-recently-so-heres


End file.
